


where weary riders rest

by mako_lies (wingeddserpent)



Series: Lament [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Heaven, Post-Season/Series 09
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-05
Updated: 2014-09-05
Packaged: 2018-02-16 06:26:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2259360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wingeddserpent/pseuds/mako_lies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Humans reenact their lives upon reaching Heaven. When Cas pays Kevin's Heaven a visit, he finds that Kevin hasn't changed much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	where weary riders rest

**Author's Note:**

> Title lifted from Vagrant Story.

He makes an exception for Kevin Tran. 

Castiel does not generally visit friends in their Heavens. The list of people he has not seen: Bobby, Ellen, and Joanna. Now, he chews the peanut butter and jelly sandwich Kevin conjured for him and sits at Kevin’s table, cluttered as it is with sigil-filled notepads and computers running through equations. “Hopefully, it doesn’t taste like molecules,” Kevin says, sitting across from him. 

He matches Kevin’s grin with one of his own, and doesn’t tell the former prophet that the jelly is comprised of particularly tasty molecules.

Why it tastes as Cas would taste it, rather than Kevin remembers it tasting… Well. Cas didn’t make Heaven, he ruined it. 

The plate vanishes once he finishes the sandwich. Kevin’s adjusted well to Heaven in a way many humans don’t. Or perhaps he had practice during his time trapped in the Veil, like a fly caught to paper. “What are you working on?” Castiel asks the inevitable, eyes drawn to a scrawl of  angel-warding Kevin has not yet etched into the bones of this house. Cas startles with gratitude. Had Kevin protected himself from angels, Cas would not have seen him before burning out. 

(Had Kevin protected himself from angels, he would be living.)

Kevin’s smile strains, the ease of him gone so quick Castiel marvels. Humans cling so the memory of what they were. “…With the Civil War and Metatron and everything, so many people’ve had their Heavens invaded or disturbed. Me, Ash, Pamela, and some of the others are working to give people more security. More power to control their lives. Or, afterlives, I guess. Anyway, it’s pretty slow going.”

As ever, Kevin is cleaning up the messes Castiel made. He recalls the green pastures he made bloody. The computers hum as they calculate. “So you have been outside your Heaven.”

“Mostly I go to Ash’s Heaven; it’s a replica of the Roadhouse, apparently. Lots of people meet there,” he taps his fingers on the table, a melodic tap, “I visited Channing, once.” And he blinks wetly at the ceiling, as Cas considers that if Kevin would but take his reward, he would see his mother and Channing always, forever. 

“Kevin, Heaven is intended as a respite,” Castiel rumbles, gaze fixed not on the boy but the piles of work that shackled him in life, too. 

Kevin’s tongue darts out to wet his upper lip. How fascinating that humans cling to such bodily conceptions, even in death. But how can you change what you have always known? When Cas looks at himself, it is unsurprising to find his appearance that of Jimmy Novak’s, down to the blue knot of his tie. (Though, why Kevin does not envision him in the mental facility white is baffling, given that was Kevin’s first impression.)”There’s just so much to do. Plus, some of the people who were stuck in the Veil are having trouble adjusting to Heaven, so I’m reaching out to them.” 

Kevin shrugs uncomfortably, and Cas wonders again how Kevin is settling. The work on the table suggests: not well. 

“Why are you by yourself here, rather than at the Roadhouse?”

“…I just wanted some time to myself, you know?” He pauses, casting his gaze over this empty  house that once was his home, “Not that I’m not happy to see you.” Castiel lets the lie stand. 

A cup of coffee materializes in Kevin’s hand. He hides behind the red ceramic to take a sip, before he says, smiling, “The awesome thing is I have an unlimited supply of the amazing coffee I used to get in Iowa.” It’s a sloppy attempt at changing the subject, but Cas imagines that Kevin’s people skills are quite rusty. 

Becoming a hermit will do that to a person. Another mug appears in arms’ reach of Castiel. Out of politeness, he plays along with the charade. 

Warm molecules. Delicious. 

Upon emptying, Kevin’s mug fills again. There’s something preposterous that Kevin Tran’s death amounted to an unlimited supply of coffee he tasted while on the run from the King of Hell. 

Cas’s fingers twitch on the floral-printed ceramic. Kevin frowns as the twitch becomes an acute tremor. Cas clutches the cup so tightly his knuckles appear white. Now, of all times. The one time he makes an exception, he is unravelling at the seams. “How are you holding up?” Kevin always picked up things quickly. 

Likely, that is why he survived as astoundingly long as he did. Maybe if he had been quicker—Cas restrains himself from breaking the mug. Kevin is not the only one to have misplaced his trust. “I know things down there are tough,” finishes Kevin. 

_Tough_ is one way of putting it. 

Cas sighs and rubs at his face, the human mannerisms coming to him so easily in Kevin’s space. Nearly comfortable, for all that Kevin is discomfited by Cas’s presence. Behind Kevin’s image of himself, his soul gleams so brightly. Before Kevin, Castiel hadn’t had much call to interact with prophets, and he has never been to the Heaven of a prophet before.

Alone in this remembered house, computers calculating and coffee brewing—it does not seem much a reward. 

“Yes. There are many… complications to work though,” and Cas sets the mug on the table. 

He clasps his hands together, but if anything, they shake more. Kevin nods, skeptically. “Is there anything I can do? I mean—“ he waves his hand, “With enough work, I can probably find out more about angels’ grace, or something about Cain and Hell Knights. I don’t have the tablets, but maybe I could find—“

Castiel holds up a hand to stop him. This has gone far enough. “If you’re set on fighting a battle, Kevin, focus on the souls of Heaven. The affairs of Earth aren’t yours any longer. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah.” Kevin’s eyes well, but he doesn’t cry. “I just… I think were right. About it never being over.”

“Kevin,” Cas rasps, raw. “I didn’t—Kevin. You are allowed this peace. This is a _reward_.” But something in that word rings hollow from this projection of Cas’s mouth. 

“I guess I’m not ready for the resting in peace thing.” Kevin smiles at Cas, but his eyes remain red. 

Cas can certainly relate. He holds his arms out for a hug, and Kevin comes willingly. The stolen burnt out grace of Cas’s presses into the brilliance of Kevin, and Cas smiles, but pulls back. Before he can say _thank you_ , Kevin breaks in with, “Can I ask for a favor?”

“Anything.”

“Would… would you check on my mom?” Kevin scratches at where he remembers himself with a dusting of dark stubble. “I’m worried she’ll do something stupid, like try and deal with Crowley.”

Cas places his hand on Kevin’s shoulder. “Yes. Of course.”

“And… after you—you know. Would you ask Sam or Garth or someone to just, check up on her once in a while? I don’t want her to be alone.” Kevin swallows thickly, blinking quickly. 

How Kevin knows what Cas’s fate is to be remains a mystery. No matter. It isn’t a secret. “Of course. But I’m afraid I am needed on Earth.”

“It was nice to see you.” Kevin grins, but his attention has turned back to the table, back to his work. What had life taught him, that this is his afterlife? And has Cas contributed to that? Obviously he has. “See you next time.”

“Yes. Next time,” says Cas, faintly, and then he appears before this house on Earth. 


End file.
